Second Wave
by Raven Clez
Summary: The Great War ended almost a hundred years ago, the Dark Lord defeated. Now a second wave has been sent to continue what was started. The League must be called on, once again, by the long-lost son of one of their members...
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE **

_War._

_It is something that makes two worlds alike, even in their vast differences. This world, the one almost all humans live in, was torn apart by the American Revolution that lasted almost thirty years, where America fought for her freedom — and won._

_Likewise, another world, hidden from man's eyes, has had its share of wars. None were as devastating as the Great War that would last more than a hundred years._

_1769 of the human calendar is the year that the Dark Lord started his war against the world of magick. He created Orcs, fearsome fighters with no mercy, to serve as his army. He built a fortress, in the fields of one of the many planes that the Other Dimension has, made it his stronghold and his palace. He mastered all spells of magic, Elven, Human, Aseyewrn and many more, becoming the all-powerful._

_Nations crumbled before his army of killers; those who tried to make peace with him were only lured by false promises of security, of trust. They too were taken. _

_Faced with this evil, the remaining species — Elves, Affati, Aclida, Vampire, Aseyewrn and Human — were forced to declare war to stop the Dark Lord from gaining their land and their people. They formed what came to be known as the Alliance. _

_Of the many battles that the Alliance faced, it was at the Fields of Cal that the final, and most memorable, battle took place in 1819 of the human calendar. _

_There, the last remnants of the Alliance's troops faced down the largest host of orcs ever to be sent by the Dark Lord. They failed the battle, almost all slaughtered._

_However, the few survivors who made it back to the great city of Terragan reported this to their leaders. There were no more soldiers in the city, and the rulers were forced to call upon the denizens of the city to defend their homes. Young men and boys were brought to arms; a ruling forbidding young women to join the army was dropped, so finally capable women were allowed to fight._

_It was at the gates of Terragan City that the war was won by men and women with little or no experience in battle. _


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

          The soft, gentle peal of musical notes was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. It carried through the building with enchanting grace, captivating the only listener other than the player. He sat in a chair in the living room, reading the paper, but the sheets folded as he craned his neck to listen, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He chuckled lightly, always happy and proud to hear that sound he knew so well.

          "Lizzy," he whispered, and sighed, before folding the paper in his lap. He cast it aside, and looked at it, deciding to tidy it before his wife got home from the walk with his toddler son. She could be a bit dangerous when it came to his mess. So he picked up the paper, made sure it was all together, and then laid it carefully on the small table beside his chair.

          He started climbing the stairs, years of needing stealth having taught him the very essence of silence. He moved unheard. He caught sight of his face in a mirror at the top of the stairs and paused, the delicate ringing of the music louder now, pleasant to his ears. He studied his face in the reflection… _his_ face. There had been a time when he had almost forgotten its particulars. 

          Purple and green eyes stared back from an ever-youthful visage, a mop of fiery-red hair atop his head, a bright beacon of his approach to people who noticed him, when he wanted to be seen, that is. There were a few lines on his face, not from the rigours of years long past, but from experience. He had achieved many a splendid thing in his time, both illegal and heroic.

          Rodney Skinner, husband and father, chuckled at his face, and carried on his small journey until he came to the slightly ajar door to the origin of the music. Inside, the music stopped, and the scribbling of a pencil could be heard. Then a few more keys sounded softly, until a clang erupted. 

          At that moment he pushed open the door and announced his presence with a humoured, "It's not going to work if you beat it."

          Elizabeth Skinner – Lizzy to all who knew her – glanced up from the sheets of manuscript, and stared at her father incredulously. Her inherited green eyes glared at him from that beautiful young feminine face. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail to keep it from her practise. "And your interruptions aren't helping," she said to him with a certain hint of – as with the eyes perhaps – inherited humour to her tone, "father," she added with a sly smile.

          He leaned on the doorframe, hands in his pockets casually, and spoke to her with a casual lilt to his voice, "Well, love, it sounded wonderful. What's got you in such a huff?"

          Lizzy shrugged her lean shoulders lazily. "Don't spare my feelings," she smiled, "it sounds like a carriage running over a stray cat."

          He couldn't help but laugh at that, even as he heard the door open and subsequently close. There was a vague shout from his wife, and his innards warmed pleasantly at knowing she was home and safe. "I'm not sparing your feelings, Lizzy." He walked over to her. "When have you ever known _me_ to be subtle?" 

          Lizzy smiled, though she tried to hide it. She shook her head, and her pinned hair swayed with the movement. She sighed loudly. She threw him a tedious look, laughter in her eyes.

          He knew the look well, nodded once, and then ducked out of the door. "No more bashing the piano."

          He heard her groan of assent as he descended the stairs into the failing light of dusk as it approached, filtering through the windows at the front and rear of the house. The sun was setting, but it was going to be a clear night in London.

          Rodney Skinner crossed around into the living room, only to bump into Vicky Attenbrough-Skinner. He grinned widely, and took her in his arms. "And how was your walk today?" She was dressed in a very attractive dress, very proper for a lady of the time. Of course, she despised it, and would change into something much more akin to his own attire the first opportunity she got.

          There was the pleasing sound of childish laughter, and a clatter on the floor. Skinner peered round Vicky's head, and smiled down at James, his young son, who was playing with some flowers he must have picked from somewhere along their walk.

          "It was… the same as it always is," Vicky replied, drawing his attention back to her. "I only just managed to avoid death-by-nagging though, if you know what I mean." She kissed him lightly, and pulled away, going to tend to the mess her son was about to crush into the floor. She scooped him into her arms, and laughed with him, the young child's happiness infectious as ever.

          "Ah," Skinner mumbled. He knew very well what she meant. His unusual behaviour had gained him quite a few odd looks and comments about the streets. Many 'respectable' individuals did not approve of his marriage to a seemingly lovely young lady. "This trying to live a normal life is still quite a job for me, Vicky. You know that."

          "Oh, I don't blame you," Vicky chided affectionately, and the next thing he knew, he had a bouncing, yammering three-year-old in his arms, with a flower almost up his nose.

          "No, James… don't do th-" Skinner sneezed, an abrupt jolt that almost made him drop the rather weighty but lean toddler, who simply broke into fits of giggles when his father vanished. "You see what you did, Jim?" He sighed, and set the child down on his feet.

          James Skinner immediately rocketed off to find something more interesting to do. His father's 'condition' had never fazed him, and Skinner watched the retreat with a concealed grin. 

          Vicky just rolled her eyes, and picked up the broken petals from the floor.


	3. Chapter 2

**Clez:** Welcome to chapter 2. This one was mostly Raven's work. Pretty much _all_ of it is hers actually, hehe. 

**_Sethoz_**** – **Thanks for the review. First one to review, you were. Ooh! Buttons! *takes bags, and hands one to Raven* Very kind. Thank you once again.

**Raven:** *eats some of the buttons* Yeah, Sethoz, what Clez said. And the rest of you, see? You review, you get brownie points from me! And once you get lots of brownie points, you get… uh… you get… brownies! Yes, you get brownies! So, now, go review and brownies you shall get!

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

"James Skinner!" 

          Vicky lifted her son out from his seat as Lizzy scrambled to get the books he had been sitting on out of the way. Tomato soup dripped off the edge of the dinner table and onto the floor and the seat. 

          Skinner laughed, earning him a glare from his wife. Somehow or another, James had been able to upset his bowl and spill soup all over the place, including the back wall. The white was splattered with the runny red liquid, and Skinner winced when he realised that he would be stuck helping Vicky scrub it off later. 

          "Lizzy, go get the paper towels," Vicky told her daughter, who left the books at a clean spot on the table. "Rodney, hold James." She handed him the young child, and Skinner cried out in surprise when he felt the wetness on his lap, holding his son up by the armpits. The soup had gotten onto James' diaper.

          "Vicky!" Skinner called, "He's got soup on his diaper!" He entered the kitchen and set the boy on the raised kiddie seat that James' godmother had made when the boy had been born. Sloane was a vampire, and her history with the Skinners went back over ten years. He heard the doorbell ring. 

          _"What?!" _ He heard his wife say as he ducked into the hallway. He shook his head and chuckled. Dinner accidents happened almost every night in the Skinner household. 

          Reaching the door, he pulled it open. There was a man standing in the porch, dressed in dark robes, a hood drawn up to hide his features. Skinner tensed; this couldn't be good, since the only time he knew people to wear robes and hoods was on grim business. 

          He just looked at the man — it could have been a woman; Skinner knew how independent they could be, ever since he met Vicky —, waiting for him to speak. He waited, and his patience paid off, but Skinner's green and purple eyes widened when he finally did speak. 

          "Hello, father."

          There was silence.

          "Who are you?" Skinner said, finally finding his voice. _A son? _he thought. _I've done my fair share of stupid things, but I've my own morals. Good ones, at that. _

          "Amelia Emmeline Watson," the figure said, raising his head slightly, but not enough to let Skinner see his face. His heart fell. Skinner knew the name well. It had been a name he'd made himself forget. 

          "What about her?" Skinner asked warily. They still stood at the doorway. 

          "Dad?" Lizzy's voice called from inside the house. "Is everything okay? Mum's says she's going to turn you into a frying pan if you don't come in and help her clean up now." 

          "We've a visitor, Liz," Skinner called back, his purple-green eyes not leaving their mysterious visitor. "Tell your mum that, will you?" 

          "Okay." Skinner heard his daughter's footsteps as she went back into the kitchen.

          "What about Amelia?" Skinner asked, looking at where he thought the person's eyes were. In truth, he had one question he knew he should ask; he didn't want to push it, though. This is was too much for him to digest.

          "It doesn't matter," the figure said. "But something else does. Will you listen to me?" 

          "I will," Skinner told him, "if you give me a name." 

          "Di'markiir," he said, pulling down his hood. Skinner blinked when he saw that he had hair, so light a blonde it was white, and eyes that were full indigo orbs. "Laire Di'markiir." 

* * *

          "You want _me to call the League?!" Skinner got up from his seat in the cosy living room of their house. He began to pace. The newspaper he had been reading earlier sat on the small table at the side. "I can't do that! I don't have the authority."_

          "You can," Laire said, following Skinner — his father — with his solid cobalt eyes. "You know where they stay, where they work. You can contact them."

          "That's not the point, Mr. Di'markiir," Vicky said from her seat on the armrest of the chair Skinner had been seated on. "He doesn't have the official clearance."

          "Then who does?" Laire asked her, looking at her directly. Inwardly, Vicky frowned. Laire couldn't have been older than twenty, but she had noticed his attire; she had no doubt he came from the realm of magicks. And the hard edge to his eyes, funny as they were — they suggested he had lived a hard life. She recognised that edge; her husband used to have it, and still did. "We need the League, Mrs. Skinner. They may be our only hope." 

          "Who are 'we'?" Lizzy asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was eighteen this year, and becoming more like her mother everyday. She had been allowed to sit in, while her little brother slept in a crib at the corner of the room. James — who was better known as Jim to the League members — was checked on every so often by his mother. "You keep saying 'we'." 

          "You wouldn't understand," Laire told the young woman whom he refused to acknowledge as his sister. Rodney Skinner had had one whirlwind night of passion with his mother, Amelia Watson — and then he had stolen the invisibility potion and disappeared, literally, from her life. Nine months later, he was born.  "All you need to know is that it's of great importance." 

          Vicky let the frown appear on her face. "We can't help you if you don't tell us why you need the League."

          Laire thought it over. _We need the League, he thought. "Assemble the League," he said, looking Skinner in the eye, "and I'll tell you then." _

* * *


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

           Skinner slouched in his seat, although he knew he shouldn't. Vicky would come after him if she found out. Thankfully, she was at home with their two kids. She had wanted to come for the meeting, but James had woken up sick that morning. 

          The doors opened; Allan Quatermain, and Mina and Dorian Gray came in together. Skinner had, reluctantly, contacted the enigmatic Mycroft Holmes. The man himself was already seated at the end of the long table, his poker face on. As usual, Dominicus Pike, his assistant, was next to him. Somehow or another, Mycroft had been able to assemble the League, calling for a meeting three days after Skinner had talked to him, allowing Nemo time to pick Tom up.

          "Evenin', Allan, Mina, Dorian," Skinner greeted, finally standing up and pacing. Laire was in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall in a cocky style that reminded Skinner of Dorian himself. "Glad you could make it."

          "What threatens the world this time?" Dorian asked, dryly. He had his navy cane with him, and he sauntered into the room, as usual; Skinner knew, though, that fatherhood had changed him. _Hell, it's changed all of us. _Skinner thought back to their last adventure, which had ended with him in a coma, and the spirits of the late Jesse Heathrow, Sierra Worthbright and Crow McGuire helping them to end the reign of terror of the Dark Lord. 

          "Don't know, myself," Skinner told him, causing Mina to raise a brow. "Ask him." Skinner jabbed his thumb in the general direction of Laire, who barely looked up at the new arrivals. 

          Allan noticed Laire then. "Who is he?" There was more white now, in Allan's hair; now that Will was in his early twenties, the former adventurer had a burden off his shoulders. He didn't need to worry about the boy's education any more. 

          Skinner flinched. "My son." 

          Before anyone in the room could answer, the doors were pushed open again, and Captain Nemo, Doctor Henry Jekyll and Tom Sawyer entered. The last of the three still showed his youthfulness in comparison to those around, and the fact drew a smile from Skinner. None of them had changed much since that first mission, in personality or looks. It was amazing to think how many years had passed.

          They were greeted, the three new arrivals, in the same manner the first had been, and before long, Laire had once again attracted attention. All eyes were on the mysterious figure now. Once more, he had the hood of his cloak low over his face, as though ashamed to be seen. Skinner cleared his throat, and Laire lowered the cloth.

          The utter silence that descended upon the room was not quite what Skinner had expected, but it wasn't far off. The solid blue eyes were the main distraction no doubt. It wasn't every day you saw something like that.

          _Must have gotten those from his mother's side o' the family_, Skinner thought without humour. "Meet Laire Di'markiir."

          "And this is your _son_?" Allan asked incredulously, waving a hand in disbelief. Perhaps he thought Skinner was up to his old tricks, playing pranks again. 

          "Indeed he is," Skinner sighed, and rubbed his weary eyes with a hand, before looking to the stranger once again, " from a prior acquaintance."

          "I am aware of your identities," Laire said then, and moved away from the wall, "and my people are in dire need of your assistance."

          "Whoa," Tom spoke up; holding a hand aloft, and furrowing his brow, "back up a little. What's going on?"

          Skinner slouched even further in his chair, and threw his 'son' a glance. Laire seemed to understand this, and his cobalt orbs turned on each League member in turn as he spoke; "I came here to ask for your assistance, knowing that you have dealt with these kinds of odds before. It is imperative that you help us."

          "Who, exactly, _is_ 'us'?" Dorian leaned on his cane, and raised a brow, standing – as ever – behind Mina's chair almost territorially. He was becoming a little impatient, and despite the changes he had undergone through the years, he did a bad job of hiding it.

          "No doubt you all recall your battle in the realm that I call my home," Laire began anew, and a few heads turned at that statement. Laire smiled grimly, nodding his head, crowned with white-blonde hair. "Yes, I see you understand that… and I am assuming you will all remember just who you endeavored to defeat?"

          "The Dark Lord," Mina revealed, acting as the collective voice. Her green eyes sparked with understanding.

          "Yes," Laire said to her, "I am afraid a new Dark Lord terrorizes my dimension, and this time… we may not be able to fend him off. Our defenses are weak; we cannot hope to survive a battle against him, and a war is inevitable."

          "A new Dark Lord?" Jekyll's gaze floated to Skinner, who nodded, resting his head on his hand, as if weary. He was starting to get a headache. He had just about had enough, but he knew that Laire wasn't exactly exaggerating; he didn't seem the type.

          Laire pressed on, the secret urgency in his voice seeping into his words, "Yes. The one you destroyed… he had an heir, a son." Laire's face became dark with anger as he said, "And, if it is at all possible, he is far worse than his father."

          "Worse?" Tom glanced about, and frowned. "How much worse?"

          "War," Laire said coldly, "is coming. The races are in combined uproar about the situation, and it is common knowledge that we do not have enough strength or resources to create a big enough army of the peoples of my dimension, or combat this threat. The races will fall to the Dark Lord's army… but I intend to see it otherwise." His eyes rested for a moment on the faces present, before he urged, "Please… we need your help. We cannot do this without you."

          "But why us?" came Mina's question. "We are but seven individuals. What difference will this make in your own army?"

          Laire smiled again, though it was devoid of humour. "Yes, Mrs. Gray, that is true, but you _have_ defeated a Dark Lord of immense power before."

          "Wait," Allan cut in, narrowing his eyes, "that wasn't even our doing. It was the spirits of his victims that destroyed him."

          The blue eyes wavered for a moment in their stern gaze, and a gentle sigh broke from Laire's form as he nodded. "Yes… but do not so quickly brush aside the fact that you defeated an army of orcs, a gryphon, and several demons." The smile returned. "You are not so easily defeated as you may think, sirs… and madam." He nodded to Mina, who raised a brow in acknowledgement. 

          Dorian took in a deep breath, recalling his arduous battle with the huge beast, and quickly brushed it aside to try and make sense of this new warning. "You say this is his heir, his son," the immortal began calmly, "and that we were successful on our visit before in destroying an army of orcs… where does he draw his soldiers from now?"

          "He creates them, Mr. Gray, as his father did before him. You forget the intensity of magicks where I come from. It is not so hard to create a fearsome soldier, as it is to…" he shrugged his lean shoulders, "heal a cut perhaps, or draw forth a small spring from which to drink. Magicks are his main weapon, and his far outstrip our own. The Affati, Aseyewrn, the Elves… humans… our magick-" He cut himself off for a moment. "It is hopeless without your assistance."

          "It can't be," Jekyll interrupted, shaking his head and trying to work out this new puzzle, "how can 'all hope be lost'? Surely all of the combined races are enough to destroy this army and claim victory. If we did it alone, can't all of your world defend itself efficiently?"

          "That's just the problem," Skinner cut in, taking his head out of his hands and standing with a loud sigh, "they can't. You remember what Vicky told us about her people… there aren't many of them left. The Affati are all but extinct as well. They can't do this without us… apparently." He glanced to Laire briefly, and the young man nodded his thanks. "He's come all this way to ask for our help… and he needs an answer quickly."

          The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen turned their eyes upon one another and exchanged questioning, hesitant glances. Were they really ready to go back to that place that could have claimed all their lives?


	5. Chapter 4

**Raven: *is baking brownies in the kitchen, before there's the smell of something burning* Oh, no, the brownies! Gah… sorry, all of you, but you'll have to wait to redeem those brownie points for a bit, until I figure out just _how _to bake 'em. *kicks the oven, which explodes* Eeep!**

**_Sethoz_****_: _you get three brownie points of that. I wanted to give you sixteen, then you said Laire was creepy…! That has successfully earned you fifteen more points, though, since that was the intended effect. And once you get enough, I swear, I'll bake those brownies even if that oven blows up on me again! *kicks the said oven, and it _does blow up*_**

**_Vaudevillian: _**You see, Clez? What did I tell you? Even she says we're a good pair! Thanks for that, Vaudevillian. Brownie points to you! As for the more Dorian part…I think we'll be able to grant you that. No LXG fic is complete without Dorian oozing sexiness all over the place! 

**Clez****: Thought I'd just slip my notes on the end here. Okay, this one goes to Raven again. I just added a couple of snippets, and beta-d basically. So, I pretty much had an easy job on this one… though I get the feeling I won't be so lucky next time… only kidding, Raven… and don't worry, Vaudevillian, the chapters _will_ be longer as we get into the swing of things… I'm sure of that. :D**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

          Lizzy frowned. She studied what was in front of her, and her frown deepened. She tried to re-do her work once more, but a hand stopped her.

          "Don't do that, Liz," Lucy Gray said, pushing her hand down from her auburn tresses. The 18-year-old was helping Lizzy with her hair. "You'll ruin it." 

          Lizzy gave a moan of protest as her friend, the one who knew — and could actually afford — the latest fashions. This time, though, the raven-haired girl was helping her friend with a coiffure that was defying the laws of physics. 

          "There you go, Liz," Lucy declared, freeing her hands. "Isn't it nice?"

          "How am I supposed to wash my hair?" was all that Lizzy asked, examining her hair at different angles in the mirror. There came the sound of the door opening downstairs, and then it closing, before a yell of the two's names told them that Alice Finn was finally here. After a few moments, the young woman entered the room, beaming as she saw the two, blue eyes alight with enthusiasm, blond locks of delicately curled hair tumbling around her face, strands of the honey tresses free from the restraints of the pins.

          "Alice!" Lucy embraced her American friend. "It's been so long!" 

          The blond grinned as she hugged her two friends. All three were eighteen, and beauties: Lucy, the dark haired one, with keen eyes that looked into the soul; Alice, the typical American girl-next-door with her fair hair and blue eyes; and Lizzy, the one with green eyes that laughed, and the mahogany hair. 

          "I've missed you," Lizzy told Alice, holding her by the shoulders. "And look at you! You've grown your hair!" 

          "Talking about hair…?" Alice pointed, amused, at what passed for the height of fashion on top of Lizzy's head. With a sound of frustration, Lizzy pulled out the pin that held her hair in place, and it came tumbling down onto her shoulders. Alice was visiting Britain with her mother, Becky Thatcher; Huck Finn, her father, was on another mission for the American government. Alice and Becky were going to be in London for about two weeks more, and Alice was using this chance to catch up with her friends. 

          "That's what's supposed to be fashionable," Vicky explained from the doorway, grinning, her son's head resting on one shoulder. She had just returned from another walk with the sick child, while Skinner senior was at the League meeting. " 'Ello, Alice." 

          "Hey, Mrs. Skinner," Alice grinned. James heard her and raised his head, with a big grin and an enthusiastic wave of his little hand. Alice waved back to the toddler, before Vicky took her leave. 

          "Any idea why you guys are staying here?" Alice asked the two. 

          Lucy shrugged, saying, "The League's off on another mission, and my parents want me to stay 'somewhere safe'. Which, it turns out, is League HQ." 

          "My place, in short," Lizzy piped up. "I'm not sure if Ajit and Will are coming, but I doubt that. Those two are old enough to take care of themselves." 

          Will Quatermain, grandson of Allan, was twenty-three this year, and becoming quite the thrill seeker. He would be departing for Africa in a few months, and Lizzy was sad to see her 'big brother' go. Ajit was Nemo's nephew, currently serving as a sailor on his uncle's grand Nautilus. The young man was twenty-one, the age that Laire probably was.

          "And Noah and Mrs. Jekyll? What about them?" Lucy asked Lizzy. 

          "They're coming, yeah," Lizzy nodded. "And since Noah's eight, my brother will have someone to play with, for once. I don't need to chase him out of the piano room anymore. Considering he spilt juice all over my work once, I think that's a good thing." 

          Alice gave a small laugh. James, the newest addition to the League children, was a charmer with his infectious grin and funny antics, not to mention him being accident-prone. All of them loved him in some way or another. _Liz's blessed to have such a sweet boy for a brother, _she thought. Although the two siblings were like every pair she knew — fighting half the time — she believed Lizzy loved her brother.

          The League children — 'little Leaguers', as Skinner had said when James was born ­— had their fair share of talents, and were not overshadowed by the original League in any way. Alice had fostered a love for guns, due in part to her father and Tom; Lucy, immortal, was not someone you'd want to anger, especially if she had her sword in hand; Elizabeth, who knew some magicks and was hell with her fists; Ajit, trained in martial arts; Will, who also had a talent for guns. Noah Jekyll was only eight, but that kid was a genius with improvising. And James, well… Alice supposed being able to distract the baddies with that grin of his was a talent, wasn't it?

* * *

          Skinner's scowl was deep. He didn't like the plan that Laire had proposed; a reconnaissance mission was risky, he knew. 

          "It's better than all-out war," Laire was shooting back at Dorian, who had raised the point. "And that way we – you – may be able to give us some hope for survival." 

          "Understand this, Mr. Di'markiir," Jekyll said, "what we did was not due to our… prowess. The death of the Dark Lord should be credited to the spirits who came to the rescue at the last minute. It was them who destroyed his source of power." 

          "But it was one of you who drove a sword through his skull." 

          Tom noticed that Laire didn't look at his father when he said that, although he more than likely knew it had been Skinner who did the 'driving'. He had missed out on most of the action where the killing of the Dark Lord was concerned, since he had been busy with a horde of demons, but from what Sloane and the others had told him, it _was _Skinner. He felt that he should speak up for his friend. "Seems to me you know an awful lot about what happened. How'd you find out?" 

          "If one thing, Mr. Sawyer," Laire said, his cobalt eyes locking onto Tom's green ones, "my people have come to the habit of checking our facts. When the vampire, Sloane, told us the great news, a team was sent to investigate. I was a part of that team. I saw his body myself. I saw the sword that killed him." 

          "But you didn't see the man who did the task, did you?" Allan said, glancing at Skinner. Laire stiffened and kept silent; he was not on good terms with his long-lost father, that much was obvious. Skinner rubbed his eyes in frustration, and weariness; the night before had been spent thinking while his beloved wife slept beside him. He reckoned he had only caught an hour or so of sleep himself. 

          "Gentlemen, Mrs. Gray," Mycroft finally spoke up. Skinner started, suddenly reminded that he was there at all. The look on Mina's face suggested she had forgotten about him, too. "I agree with Mr. Gray that this plan of his is risky, but I cannot deny the implications a war would have on the world, not to mention the Empire." 

         "It would spill out into _this _world," Laire said by way of agreement, pulling his gaze from the large Holmes. "And then even your children, your families, even those in faraway places would be affected. And if the new Dark Lord attacks this world, as well as my own, then all _will_ be lost." 

          There was silence as the League digested the facts, and it's implications. Skinner frowned, as Dorian and Mina discreetly held each other's hands. Tom's head was bowed, blond hair a curtain that hid his face. 

          "Let's see," Allan finally said. "From what I've heard, we stand not much in the way of success, and more than likely we'll die before this endeavor is over. Am I right?"

Grim nods answered him.

          Allan nodded. "What are we waiting for?" 


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

          Skinner set his keys on the cupboard that sat next to the big bed that he and Vicky shared. The door opened, and he cast a weary glance over his shoulder. He needed a nap, and he intended to get one. 

         "How was it?" Vicky asked, closing the door behind her quietly. Skinner kept silent. He heard the worry and concern in the edges of her voice. "Will the League help?" 

         Skinner still kept silent. He didn't like the answer too much himself; the ramifications it would have on his family was something he didn't want to think about. 

         "Rodney… please, tell me." Vicky touched his arm, gently. He turned, wrapping his arms around her waist, looking into those warm amber eyes of hers, before resting his cheek against her forehead. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, where she could hear his pulse. 

         "No," he lied. "We're not going to help Laire."

         Vicky looked up at him, studying his features. He knew, by the look on her lovely face, that she believed him.

         That is, until her fist connected with his jaw.

         When he came to a few minutes later, he knew he was lying on the bed. _Must've fallen onto it when she punched me_, Skinner thought. _I can't feel my face. He also saw Vicky standing over him, anger in her features._

         "You forget, Rodney," she said with a dangerous cool, "I've been married to you long enough to know when you're lying." 

         He sat up slowly, reorienting himself with his surroundings. He was in their room. On their bed. And currently his face was numb. He tried twitching his nose, and was thankful it wasn't broken. His wife, harmless as she seemed, was stronger than the average human, thanks to her ability to fight and her mixed heritage. At their wedding, Skinner remembered, he had tried to arm-wrestle with her cousin. He had broken his arm, and resolved never to try that with an elf again. 

          "Okay, okay, so I was lying," Skinner began, trying to redeem himself. "I didn't want you to worry..."

          "Want me to worry?!" Vicky exploded. "Rodney, if you had lied to me, and you went on the mission, and you got killed, what would the rest have told me?" She put on an imitation of Allan's thick accent, "'Vicky, I'm sorry, but Skinner got killed _while we were on a mission'_?!" Her voice began to rise in volume, and he knew she was upset. And an upset Aseyewrn was never good. It hurt his heart to think that he had caused this.

         "I'm going!" she told him. He took a step back.

         "No you aren't," he told his wife. "I won't let you."  

         "Try and stop me," she challenged, fiery passion in her eyes. He was proud of her determination, touched by her love, and concerned at what she intended to do. 

          "You do that, Vicky," he shot back, trying to pacify her and make her see reason, "And what would happen if both of us got killed? Who'd take care of the kids?"

          "Lizzy can take care of herself," Vicky persisted, "she's old enough." 

         "And what about James? He's three, for goodness sake's. He can't even write his name yet!" 

         Vicky immediately quieted, some of her fervor lost at the mention of her son. She looked slightly ashamed as her husband went on, before finally ending.

          "Vicky, listen to reason," he told her. "If both of us don't make it out of this, then James'll have no one. I don't want him to grow up without a mother, like I did."

         Vicky looked up at him, tears in her eyes. _If he dies..._she thought. _I don't know what I'll do without him._ It wasn't that money would be a problem; she had education, and she would be able to find a job. It was the void she knew would appear in her heart. 

          "But I don't want him to grow up without a father, either." His gaze softened on her, and he took her into his arms once more, letting her sob against his chest. 

* * *

          Alice Finn and the other girls were sitting in the large room downstairs whilst Rodney and Vicky Skinner spoke upstairs. James was now running around, laughing at the top of his lungs about nothing whatsoever. Of course, Alice loved the young boy, and soon took it upon herself to pick him up and spin him around whilst Lizzy and Lucy spoke about their parents.

          "So have they told you anything?" Lucy was asking, giving a sideways glance to Alice as she twirled the toddler around.

          "You might not want to keep doing that," Lizzy advised softly to Alice, who eased on the spinning. Lizzy turned her green eyes back on her immortal companion, and replied, "I don't know anything. They won't tell me, and it's really starting to grate."

          "I just wish they would trust us…" Lucy sighed, her fingers running through the tips of her black hair as it sat over her shoulder, her dark eyes running over the soft strands as she ceased regarding Lizzy Skinner.

          Before Lizzy could open her mouth to comment further, the doors at the end of the room opened, and in walked a person she hadn't seen for many months at least. Lizzy bounced out of her chair, blushing afterwards, and beamed as she said, "Will!"

          Will Quatermain looked over his shoulder, and then back into the room with a furrowed brow. He appeared confused, before he strode in, and held open his arms to Alice and James who hugged him briefly. 

          "Well I'm surprised to see all of you here," was the first thing he said after tousling James' fiery hair, and walking over to the table, hugging Lizzy one-handed.

          "I live here… you shouldn't be that surprised," Lizzy quipped, smiling at him. He had grown so much! Lucy did not rise from her chair, but returned his warm smile. He put down James, and the boy rocketed off somewhere to play.   "When my grandfather told me to come here… he didn't say anything about the rest of you," he trailed off there, and a look of realisation overcame him. He sighed, and said one word with a grin, "Babysitting."

          It was then Lucy yelled a warning and something barreled into him, and Will fell forward, but he was fast enough to twist his whole body around and grab James before the child hit the ground with him. He instead landed on Will's chest, knocking some of the wind out of him. He didn't know three-year-olds could be so heavy. 

          "James!" Lizzy cried, pulling her brother off Will as Alice and Lucy helped the young man up. He took in deep breaths, trying to get something in his lungs again. 

          "What, exactly, have you been feeding him?" Will asked. "Whatever it is it's sure making him heavy."

          "You'd be amazed at how much he eats," Lizzy said, setting her brother on the bed and helping Will up. "Are you alright?"

          "I think so," he nodded, glancing over to James, who was standing behind Lizzy's leg, looking ashamed. "What about him?" 

          "James' okay," James answered for himself, and Will couldn't help but smile at the way James pronounced his words. The way James talked always made him amused; it was just the way the monosyllabic-ism found its way into his words. "Willy okay?" 

          "It's 'Will', James," Will corrected gently, "not 'Willy'."

          There came the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and the door was pulled open. Vicky and Skinner came in, both looking worried. 

          "What happened?" Vicky asked, a concerned look on her features. Lizzy hid a frown. It looked like her beloved stepmother had been crying, and the dark spots on Skinner senior's shirt only served to strengthen that theory. "We heard a yell. Hey, Will."

          "James became a human cannonball," Will told them, nodding his greetings to the couple. James had run up to his parents and now his father carried him. "He's heavy." 

          "Aseyewrn muscle mass," Vicky explained, giving him a once-over to see if her son had hurt him. "I'm still not sure if he'll grow wings when he's older." Lizzy flinched when she imagined the chaos her brother would cause if and when he sprouted wings, like the ones Vicky used to have before they were amputated, to save her from internal bleeding after they were broken by the late Dark Lord in a battle that had left Skinner in a coma for two years. 

          Skinner checked his child, too. Nothing seemed to be broken. He heard the doorbell ring downstairs, and took his leave with James, now grinning at the prospect of his playmate Noah Jekyll staying over. Putting James down as they descended the stairs to the ground floor of the three-storey house, he watched as the toddler ran to the front door and stood on tiptoe to try to reach the doorknob, to no success. Skinner pulled open the door, and greeted the Jekylls. He helped them with Marie and Noah's bags.

          "Hello, Vicky," Dr. Jekyll said to Skinner's own wife as she came down the stairs. She smiled at him, and she and Marie embraced. The Skinners and the Jekylls were close family friends, and the children of the respective families had grown up together. Noah and James together meant trouble, and Vicky once had to get her son out from under the cupboard where he got stuck. "I trust Rodney has told you when we leave…?" 

          "Tonight, I know," Vicky nodded, and the good doctor saw that some of the glint in her eye dimmed. The whole League knew how deep Skinner and Vicky's love for each other went, and how hard it had been for them to finally get married. "Sloane's coming over later, I think." She looked around, and noticed her son was missing, having run off with Noah to get into trouble again. She expected it wasn't long before she had to rescue them. 

          The group moved up the stairs so Marie – Jekyll's wife of six years – could unpack. She would be staying with them and the girls for the duration of the mission, as the arrangement went. 

          "I'll get the drinks," Skinner said, glancing at his friend the doctor. "D'you think I could persuade you to have some scotch or sherry?" Jekyll shook his head. 

          "It's been years, Skinner, and I'm still not going to touch the stuff," Jekyll told his friend, who shrugged. They met Will on their way, and the greetings, as usual, were made. All the little Leaguers were in the house, with the exception of Ajit. Vicky fondly remembered the Indian man as a version of his uncle Nemo. They were so alike in many ways, and it was expected that the captaincy of the Nautilus would be passed onto the capable young man one day. 

          Then a scream from downstairs sent her running towards it source, the great overwhelming fear that something terrible had happened to her son gripping her heart. 

          _"Mama!"  _

* * *

          Mina and Dorian had taken a carriage to the Skinner residence, where Laire had agreed to meet the League, and also to say goodbye to Lucy. Mina frowned as she sniffed the air slightly. The scent along that street was always a little more exotic than the rest of London, mainly because Vicky knew her fair share of magicks. 

          There was something else, this time. Something more… dark. _More evil, _Mina shuddered, suddenly reminded of Dracula and what he had done to her. Absently, her hand traveled up to the blood-red scarf she always wore, touching the spot where the crimson kiss of the Count had been delivered to her. Seeing this, Dorian pulled her hand down gently.

          "Don't remind yourself of such things," he told her quietly. She knew he had been thinking; either of them might not make it out alive. In the magickal realm where Laire had grown up in, Dorian didn't heal immediately; his rate of healing was much slower than in the normal world. Now a new risk factor had been introduced: death. They had been prepared for this, as were the rest of the League; their affairs were settled, and in event of their death, Lucy would take over their estate and finances. If she needed help, Sloane the vampire and trusted ally of the League, could help.

          As they paid the driver and got out into the street, Mina's foreboding feeling of doom heightened when her enhanced senses heard a child's scream, coming from inside the house. It was no scream of joy or glee; this was terror. Pure, unadulterated terror, and Mina sprung into action, bursting through the door. Dorian knew his wife, and unsheathed his cane-sword as he ran with her. They met the group who had been upstairs on the way, and Skinner sneezed behind them, vanishing. 

          The men and some of the ladies present sprang into action, with Vicky in the lead. She ran towards the scream, which was outside, in the small garden in the back of the house. On the way, she grabbed her daggers from their place on the mount on the wall. 

          James and Noah ran into them, terror etched into their youthful faces. James collapsed in his sister's arms, wailing, and Noah grabbed his mother. Barely sparing a glance, Skinner, Vicky, Dorian and Mina were outside in a flash, and were immediately taken into battle by the orcs that had appeared in the garden.  

* * *

          The huge slavering beasts roared all around them and they were immediately set upon by the small horde of them that had mysteriously appeared in the Skinners' garden. Marie and Lizzy stayed inside with the children, Lucy did so begrudgingly, whereas Will charged out with the parents into the fray, rifle in his hand, which he cocked and fired at once. The beast on the receiving end of the blow squealed with the impact, and was thrown back onto the grass. This did not dissuade its fellows from attacking, and they did so with a frightening fervor. 

          Mina ducked and weaved around the creatures, striking in every way she knew how, her husband slashing with his cane sword only mere feet away from her, covering her as she fought. The impassiveness on Dorian's handsome face was chilling, but reassuring, showing his concentration. Rodney Skinner was lost in the battle, though his position was revealed when the dead orc's jagged weapon rose of its own accord and spun into action. Vicky put her beautiful daggers to good use quickly, striking for the vulnerable areas beneath the crude but effective armour. They fell before her, only to rise again after absorbing the shock of her blows. 

          A deafening bellow announced the sudden presence of Edward Hyde in the place of Henry Jekyll, and he threw himself into battle with a passion and a hearty laugh, clubbing the beasts to the ground with meaty, sinewy arms. Will Quatermain stayed close to him, cocking and firing his rifle with an impressive deftness that he had surely learned from his grandfather. When his gun clicked on empty, he took up a technique Dorian had seen used by the American, Sawyer, on that plain all that time ago. He swung the heavy stock around, and beat an orc around the head with it, soon taking it out of action.

          From in the house came a yell of desperation, and Mina rose her eyes from the dying orc at her feet to see her beautiful daughter advance from the building, swiftly taking a discarded enemy blade in her hands with a determination on her flawless young features. "Lucy!" Mina yelled loudly, "Go back inside!"

          The vampire turned just in time to duck a blow to the head that may have very well killed her, and growled ferociously before calling to her husband; "Dorian!"

          The immortal turned his head, black locks in his face, to see his daughter set upon by a huge, roaring orc who quickly disarmed her with a powerful strike that visibly sent a shock through Lucy Gray. He had no time to shout as she was wounded, but he set forward with an anger and passion in his dark eyes, gripping the hilt of his cane sword so tightly he thought he might break it.

          As the battle raged around him, the enemy numbers thinning, Dorian came up beside the orc who stood gloating over his wounded daughter, and rammed the blade of his weapon into the side of the beast's head, hearing a crunch. He scowled at it as it managed to turn, before reaching up and tearing his sword free, letting the orc fall to the ground with dull crash.

          Hyde and Vicky set themselves upon the last of the party of orcs with vehemence, and soon put them to the ground as they had with the fellows, the bloodied and jagged blade of the disembodied weapon hovering over the carcass of one that twitched, before it came crashing down with a killing blow. The grass of the once-beautiful garden now looked haunted and stained, littered with the corpses of the monstrous enemy. Mina ran to Dorian, who knelt by his daughter's side. Already, the young woman was sitting up and telling her father not to fuss.

          "You are hurt," he reminded her, looking her straight in the eye, and stroking her black tresses from her milky skin softly with one hand. "Lie still."

          "Father," she began in a smooth voice like her mother's, raising a single brow, "I am an immortal. I will be fine in a matter of moments. See?" She ran her own feminine hand over the slash in her belly, as it receded. "I am already healing." 

          Mina embraced her daughter, and Dorian stroked his wife's hair, the two feeling their fear ebb through them with more fiery strength than they had known possible. For one horrible moment, Dorian had thought his daughter would be taken from them.

          "They're all dead," Vicky announced gravely, and shoved one of the bodies with her foot to ensure its lack of movement. "A scouting party… the Dark Lord knows."

          "Wonderful," Skinner grumbled, and tossed the orc weapon aside and sneezed loudly, returning to visibility. He crossed to the trio of immortals, and said, "All right?"

          "I'm fine," Lucy Gray cut in with a reassuring smile, and ran her fingers over her now perfect skin where it showed under the slit in her dress. "Just as I said I would be."

          Save for Hyde, they returned to the house, grave and filled with a new sense of melancholy determination.

* * *

          It was growing dark as the League were saying goodbye. The children stood on the street with frowns on their faces and pleading in their eyes. They wanted to go.

          Rodney Skinner took young James in his arms, and closed his eyes, taking a breath of the scent of flowers in his son's fiery hair, smiling wanly. "I'll see you soon, Jim," he told his youngest child, who looked his father in the eye with an odd sense of understanding. Rodney handed the toddler to his wife, and looked at Lizzy, who avoided his gaze for a moment. That changed however when he touched a hand to her shoulder. She looked at him, and then threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

          "Be careful," she said to him, the sound muffled by his own shirt as she pressed her head into his shoulder, "please."

          He ran his fingers gently through her soft hair, and replied, "I'll be fine. You'll see."

          Across the way, Dorian and Mina simultaneously held their daughter Lucy, who did not draw away from her parents, instead embraced them affectionately. They remained like that for some time, not saying anything, just being in each other's presence.

          Allan Quatermain was speaking in hushed tones as to what Will should do if there was any trouble, to which his grandson was nodding and insisting he would be all right, and that he could handle the responsibility. 

          Henry Jekyll kissed his wife, and ruffled his son's messy hair, before the little boy held out his arms for his father. The man took Noah up into his hold, and hugged him closely, with a tenderness that was heartbreaking. When he looked back to Marie, there were veiled tears in his eyes.

          Captain Nemo stood beside his nephew Ajit, a tall young man who strongly resembled his regal uncle. The two stood straight-backed, silent, but their proximity spoke volumes about their situation. Ajit was to be left in command of the Nautilus in his uncle's absence, the captain trusting the young man to be able to handle such a task.

           Tom Sawyer was looking down at his goddaughter, who fiddled with the sleeves on her dress, before looking to him with bright, shining blue eyes that welled with tears. He frowned when he saw this, and hugged her tightly, whispering in her ear that he would be fine, and that he would see her again soon. She refrained from crying, only just managing as she drew back from him, and put on her most convincing brave face. He smiled, and tucked a bang of her blonde curls from her face, before kissing her forehead softly.

          Vicky looked at her husband, and sternly said to him, her voice laced with affection and concern, "You are coming back to me."

          "I'm coming back," was his equally firm reply, before he took her face in his hands, and kissed her softly.

          The League, accompanied by Laire, set off, the children and lovers left behind, unshed tears in their eyes. It wasn't long until the eight figures had been lost to their eyes, and they realised they may very well never see them again.


	7. Chapter 6

Clez: Well, I won't deny the LOTR references in this chapter, and I doubt Raven will either. We're not ashamed to admit the inspiration we have drawn from those masterpieces… it's not a crime if we fess up! Also, the name 'Malhandir' is _not_ from LOTR in any way. It is in fact from a completely different franchise, and in no way belongs to Tolkien, P. Jackson… or even myself. There, I'm being honest. 

**Raven: True, what Clez said. By the way, neither of us don't own LOTR, though we've had a lot of help from all three movies. The kids, Terragan, Laire and the rest of 'em belong to us, but LXG characters don't. Sad, innit? **

**Vaudevillian: **Have all the brownie points we can find! *digs out brownie points and showers Vaudevillian with them* What a lovely, honest and helpful review you left for us! The biggest we have _ever_ seen! Oh, the grins on our face! Ear to ear! Thank you kindly! *Raven stops Clez from throwing the said brownie points* Clez, don't you dare do that! If you give 'em all away, how are we gonna give Vaudevillian any more? 

* * *

CHAPTER 6 

          The journey to the magickal dimension didn't take as long as Skinner seemed to remember it taking before when they had originally travelled the route, and this puzzled him. His 'son' sensed this confusion, and turned his cobalt eyes upon him with a crooked smile, saying only, "Magick."

          The eight of them crossed into the realm of the magicks, feeling the intense power and change wash over them, though Laire was unaffected, and he started off across the vast hillside at once. The others followed him after taking a moment, Dorian scowling as he felt something deep within him shift only a fraction… a dangerous fraction nonetheless. He needed to be careful in this place. Death was quite possible for him here.

          Mina stayed beside him, and followed behind the others as Laire led them to the apex of the hill. The League stopped all around him, and exchanged glances. Tom Sawyer frowned, his Winchester settled on one shoulder.

          "Is it colder than before?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

          Laire closed his eyes and sighed. "It gets colder and darker now… it is the evil magicks of the Dark Lord. They are spreading."

          Skinner frowned. All of this sounded like something out of a fairy tale book of a child… but he had seen enough of this myth and magick in reality to know it to be anything other than make-believe. "What are we waiting for?"

          Laire locked gazes with his father, and then glanced around. "Our transportation."

          Jekyll opened his mouth to inquire from his place beside Nemo, before piercing whinnies carried over the light breeze to them, and the soft thundering of hooves drew their attention to the west, where a small herd of horses was approaching swiftly and with unbelievable grace.

          Mina smiled. She remembered the previous journey on horseback, where they had jumped the canyon… the horses had made it seem so effortless. She would have been able to fly the distance with ease, but the animals had helped without being asked, so it would have been rude to decline. 

          Now they came up before the League, as beautiful and enchanting as ever, and the largest of the group padded on hoofed feet over to Laire, pressing its pink muzzle and dappled head lightly against the young man's chest in greeting. Laire embraced the animal's head with his hands, and leaned his forehead against that of the horse, whispering to it in something Skinner recognised as Elven. He smiled; realising Laire was thanking the horse, and telling it where they were to be carried. Some words he missed… but he decrypted the majority.

          The horses paced to the League members, seemingly choosing them for size and weight, and for a moment, the seven eyed one another and then their intended charges. As a unit, they mounted, and turned to Laire, who led them north over the hills at a swift gallop. The horses kept the pace easily, showing no signs of exhaustion at any point of their journey, their silken manes glistening in the light, their muscular limbs pumping as they sped along on their way, League on their backs. They ranged from white to roan in shade, and each one was as gorgeous as the next, powerful and graceful.

          It was dark when they reached their destination, Laire thanking the dappled stallion once again before dismissing them with a half-bow. At that, the grey horse turned and was on his way, taking his fellows with him without a sound of disapproval. Before long, they were gone from sight, and Mina looked on after them longingly, before taking in her surroundings.

          It was a city… all secluded within high walls and towers, with scouts and sentries on patrol on the parapets overhead. They looked to be men, but the vampire could not be certain as they crossed through the gate into the courtyard, where three individuals of different race greeted them.

          "Laire," one said simply, a tall and handsome Elf with curled black hair reaching to his bottom jaw, and soulful brown eyes, "I see you brought our aid."

         Laire nodded, and turned to make introductions, "May I present the 'League of Extraordinary Gentlemen': Allan Quatermain, Captain Nemo, Doctor Henry Jekyll, Dorian Gray, Wilhelmina Gray, Rodney Skinner and Tom Sawyer."

          The Elf bowed his head in acknowledgement, and strode towards them. Tom took in the sight of his elegant mithril armour, gleaming in the torchlight all around, a beautiful pendant hanging from a chain around his neck over his breastplate. "I am Eiselbahr, one of three commanders of the Elves. Thank you for coming."

          "It's not like we had a choice," Skinner muttered under his breath, noting how Mina arched an eyebrow, and the aforementioned Eiselbahr regarded him curiously. _Whoops… I think he heard that_.

          The second individual was also male, and as he approached, there was a rustling, and broad feathered wings spread from his back. He rolled his lean shoulders and sighed lightly, as if he had kept them back for too long, and it had strained them. He flexed the wings, and looked to them each in turn with the most enchanting violet eyes. He blinked slowly, and cocked his head, his short and wild mahogany hair only serving to intensify the streaks and highlights in his wings. They were grey for the most part; black veins of feather running through them, and on the very edges were strong lines of vivid red. So similar to Vicky's, before they had been amputated, but so powerfully different. He cleared his throat quietly, and spoke, "My name is Piero. You have seen my kind before… I am an Aseyewrn, and knew Victoria's father." He glanced around the group. "Is she not with you?"

          Skinner shook his head. "No. I wouldn't let her come. She doesn't have her wings anymore, and she…" He trailed off, realising this man – Aseyewrn did not need to know the particulars. "She's not here."

          Piero, as he had introduced himself, inclined his head slightly with a widening of the eyes. "You are joined in marriage." It wasn't a question.

          "Yes," Skinner responded, just as simply. _No use trying to hide it from them, _he thought. _Besides, Laire already knows. _

          "My blessings," Piero said blandly. And then they saw it as a torch nearby flared up, being lighted for the night. The man looked in his late thirties, but on closer inspection, his face was not so peaceful. He had seen battle before, and the evidence of such ran painfully visible down the left side of his face. A scar ran from his forehead down to the middle of a cheek. Now that Allan looked carefully, the left eye was constantly more lidded than the right.

          Piero seemed to notice their inspection of his face, and turned away to allow the third figure to make their introduction. The last was a female, crouched down in a very familiar way, almost predatorily. When her head rose, and the eyes were visible through the locks of blonde, the eyes flashing yellow in the light. She smiled wanly.

          "I can see the recognition in your faces. I am Aclida," she revealed, and stood up a little straighter, her agility making Jekyll's eyes widen. The way she moved was so feline, it was astounding. As she walked to them, she made no sound on the stone floor, and she regarded them cautiously but oddly warmly with her strange eyes. "My name is Xanthe. Welcome to our last stronghold…" She waved an arm to the city around her. "Terragan, city of hope."

          Tom let out a low whistle as he took in the sight around him, exhaling in awed appreciation of just how much work had been put into the construction of this place. The buildings looked ancient, and full of detail, some with arcane writing around the archways lined with plant life so exotic he cocked his head as he tried to identify it. The peoples who milled about were of all races and genders, most brandishing armour and weapons alike… and they all looked skilled in their use. Elves, Aclida, Affati, Aseyewrn and many more watched the strangers with intrigued curiousity. There was the cry of a bird that carried like a silvery peal on the breeze, and Tom's green eyes rose as he watched a great flying animal come in to land on Eiselbahr's outstretched arm. The eagle – as Tom recognised it, along with the others – chattered cryptically to the Elf, who nodded, and sent the bird away again with a muttering of thanks.

          "Our enemy is massing in the south," Eiselbahr announced to the small company. Piero's wings arched, and fluttered slowly, as if he were itching to take flight and investigate. 

          "It seems to me that a reconnaissance is called for," Allan commented, eyeing his fellow League members, and new acquaintances alike. Though he was old, he still had his passion and determination, and Laire admired that in the man. Skinner's estranged son nodded only once.

          "You are correct, Mr. Quatermain." Laire looked to his fellow magickal companions. "We shall leave in the dawn. They are sluggish in the daylight… though not weak. It will take us many hours to make the journey to his stronghold and scout his resources."

          "Agreed," Eiselbahr murmured, and bowed his head to the League once more before turning on his heel and moving off gracefully, Piero and Xanthe not far behind. "We will get the supplies." Laire nodded his thanks.

          "They are the leaders of their troops?" Allan asked as the group closed in around Laire to speak quietly.

          "That is one way of putting it." Laire tilted his head thoughtfully. "Eiselbahr, as you heard, is one of three Elven commanders in Terragan. He has much respect from his kind, and they look to him as a leader figure. Piero is… he does not lead, but he represents the fire of the Aseyewrn. He has seen many battles, and his determination leads me to think this will not be his last." Laire smiled pensively at that description, before drawing to a conclusion, "And Xanthe… the Aclida have no real leaders. They are true fighters, and she is a strong warrior, one of the most fervent I have ever met, even amongst her kind." He paused, smiling. "And _that_ is saying something."

          Skinner smiled at his son's colourful words, before feeling the light strain in his muscles from being on the move for so many hours. Looking around told him that the hour was late. His thoughts strayed to his family back in his dimension, in London… and he prayed they would be safe. He was concerned another party of orcs may attack his house… Vicky was a powerful fighter, but she couldn't hold off an entire horde of them alone. _She'll be fine._

          "Come," Laire said to them wearily, "it grows late, and we will need much rest before tomorrow. It will be a long day, no doubt. I will show you to your lodgings."

          And so he led them through Terragan, where they were acknowledged as equals by all around… something that made Skinner's heart ache with unfounded pride.

* * *

          Night had fallen upon London a few hours before, and now the Skinner household was asleep, with the exception of one woman.

          Vicky lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to pretend that her husband was asleep, beside her. It was working, and she gave a small sigh, resigned to the fact that he was there and she was here.

          A melancholy air had befallen the people in the house since the League and Laire left for the other dimension, better known as Idril Telemnar to those better versed in magicks. _It's__ death, Vicky thought. __War always brings death._

          The former-Aseyewrn gave a deep sigh, concentrating on the patterns the moonlight made on the walls and ceiling of the room. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come, but it eluded her, like a dream that couldn't be caught. She lay there, and didn't hear the door open.  She did, however, feel the wriggling of her son into her bed. She opened her eyes and saw the dark shape that was him.

          She lifted the covers slightly, making it easier for him to crawl into the big, warm bed and snuggle up to her. There was something soft between the two, and Vicky knew that her son had brought his toy bee with him.

          "Mama," James mumbled softly, curling up close to his mother. Vicky held her child close, feeling his chest rise and fall as his breathing evened out and became shallow. She knew he was asleep, and hid a smile; this was his favourite way to get attention. She shifted until she rested on her side, and stroked her sleeping child's hair. He shifted a little, and she paused, but then continued, thinking. 

          James had his mother's hair, but his father's eyes; where his grin came from, they weren't sure. Vicky knew that Lizzy and James would be all she had left, should her husband not make it back. She banished such thoughts from her mind.

          _Of course he'll make it back, _she thought. _He has to. _

* * *

          It was very early in the morning when the League were roused from dreamless sleep, and were ushered into a small hall where the three individuals from the previous evening were collected and waiting for them. Eiselbahr was still dressed in his ornate and fine armour, Piero standing beside him with his wings arched casually. Xanthe was crouched low to the ground, working at fixing a dagger into her belt securely.

          "I trust you slept well," Eiselbahr greeted them smoothly, taking a bow and collection of arrows from the table, and slinging the quiver over his back and chest and tightening it. He kept the fine bow in his hand, and Nemo raised a brow at its appearance. He recognised it… it resembled Crow McGuire's… in fact, if he didn't know any better, he would have thought it the same one.

          Piero smiled grimly, his left eye slightly more closed than the right, as it had been the day before.

          "It was a restless sleep," Mina breathed, and yearned to take Dorian's hand. She had an oddly foreboding feeling settling in the pit of her stomach that she could not explain.

          Eiselbahr turned his head to Laire, and raised his brow, an inquiring gesture. The young man nodded his head and said, "It is already done."

          "Very well," the Elf began, shifting his burden slightly so that it settled more comfortably, "we shall leave at once, if you are all prepared accordingly?" He eyed the League.

         Allan and Tom carried their rifles, the American also weighed down comfortingly by his pistols at his sides. The adventurer also carried his bowie knife in his belt, and his Webley on his left hip. The vampire needed no weapons as such, but felt more at ease by the presence of twin daggers hidden in her long coat. Dorian, beside her, gripped his cane sword firmly, his face set grimly at the prospect of possible injury in this realm. Nemo – as ever – carried his ornamental sword and scabbard at his hip. Jekyll was turning a vial of elixir round and round in his shaking hands… he was nervous. Skinner stood, looking from side to side, before Piero noticed him, and smiled.

          The Aseyewrn took something from the table where Eiselbahr had retrieved his weaponry, and walked over to Skinner, offering it to him gently. "Here," he said, "take this."

          Skinner looked down at the weapon, and felt his jaw drop slightly. It was a sword, and a beautiful one at that. Its blade was shining in the light, etched with arcane symbols, the same style of which also adorned the wide hilt. He tentatively reached out, and let Piero place it in his grasp, letting out a breath when he felt the weight of it… not too heavy and not too light. It was perfect. "I'm not sure I know how to use this…"

          "Of course you do," Piero countered quietly, and accepted the daggers Xanthe passed to him as she walked towards the door, where Laire was motioning for them to follow.

          The League turned, Skinner bringing up the rear, still admiring the weapon. They walked to the doors, and Laire and Eiselbahr walked out first into the courtyard, where Dorian looked up from his cane at the sound of hooves on cobbled stone. 

          The horses from the previous day waited for them, tacked and waiting, some with differing harnesses. As the League separated, breaking from one another and standing at a wide distance, the horses starting forward, individually reclaiming the member who had ridden them the day before.

          The dappled grey greeted Laire in the same manner, and he spoke its name, "Malhandir… _diola__ lle." The stallion snorted in response, and nuzzled the young man's face. He petted its muzzle, and then swung onto its back. _

          Eiselbahr was next to mount, a pure white and lithe horse with no saddle or bridle, but he climbed onto its back with ease and steered with his knees and gentle words. The horse responded without hesitation, bobbing its lean head, its forelock bouncing around its light eyes.

          Two large horses paced to Allan and Tom, both with long holsters down the sides of their saddles. The one on the left was a wall-eyed black, and it gave a low purring of a noise, looking Tom right in the face with an almost mischievous air about it. It tossed its head with a gentle whinny, and the American smiled. The animal on the right was a large chestnut, with a large blaze running down its face. It turned on its side as a kind of invitation to Allan, and the hunter wasted no time in accepting. Tom wasn't far behind, climbing onto the mischievous horse's back moments after. 

          The next to mount were Dorian and Mina, the former on a proud dun, the latter riding atop a beautiful blue roan that pranced as it strode. Jekyll turned down the use of a horse, slinking off into a private shadow to drink his elixir. Xanthe watched him with mild interest, in her predatory crouch again, standing beside the tall Piero, whose wings spread wide and flapped once. 

          A regal bay approached Nemo, and the Indian hesitated for only a moment, knowing he would be much more comfortable back on his Nautilus, but knowing this was essential. The last to mount a horse was Skinner, who was 'claimed' by a gentle animal with flaxen mane and tale, and a coat that shone mahogany under the sun. 

          Eiselbahr and Laire led them at a walk through the courtyard, the League atop their charges quite comfortably, Skinner having located the scabbard on the side of his saddle and finding it to be a perfect fit to the blade Piero had given him. The Aseyewrn threw him a knowing glance, before lifting from the ground, his wings spread wide in flight. Edward Hyde stepped from his place of transformation. Xanthe looked up at the monstrous alter ego with a grin, and paced with him out after the others.

          When they had passed the central courtyard, Eiselbahr and Laire broke into a trot and finally a slow gallop out of the gates, rocketing off at full speed when outside Terragan. The League followed with ease on their horses, the small collection followed by a charging Hyde and swift Xanthe on foot. Overhead, Piero scouted in the distance, his wings flapping slowly to keep him aloft. 

* * *

          From his place at the front of the swift moving procession, Laire Di'Markiir was letting his thoughts wander as he gripped the reins of his mount, Malhandir, the stallion's limbs pumping in a gallop as they charged over the vast open plains and fields of Idril Telemnar. Though his thoughts ran free, his eyes never wavered from leading the League along with Eiselbahr the Elven commander, Xanthe and Hyde bringing up the rear, Piero flying overhead as a kind of lookout. They were a nice compact and secure travelling group, and of course, should trouble come out of nowhere, the horses would provide a quick exit.

          _He still does not believe whom I am, he thought from atop the dappled horse, and closed his eyes for a moment as they charged past a small woodland crop. A bird flew overhead, dodging Piero, and Laire opened his cyan eyes to the path ahead once again. The fortress was not even in sight yet. They had a long way to go. __He does not see me as his son… despite my claims. Why will he not believe me?_

          Laire risked a glance over his shoulder, being an expert rider, and saw his father near the end of the group, atop the flaxen-haired horse, the sword Piero had given him fixed in the scabbard. Little did he know the power of the blade he carried… Laire wondered if he would ever find out about it. 

          Shifting his thoughts along, he turned his head back after smiling politely to Mrs. Gray, where she rode alongside her wary husband. How _could_ Rodney Skinner know? _Piero__ could not have known… could he? How would he know that my father has the potential to wield such a powerful weapon?_

          Malhandir tossed his head, perhaps catching a foul scent on the wind, and Laire glanced to Eiselbahr, who narrowed his eyes and peered into the distance, before glancing skyward. Piero showed no signs of distress, so they pressed on warily. _The Dark Lord cannot know of our approach… even **his** magic is not powerful enough. Unless his skills have increased… again. Are we really going to be strong enough?_

          Reminding himself not to be so negative, despite the circumstances, Laire turned Malhandir to the apex of a hill, where the stallion led the other horses in a tight group over the mound and down the other side without trouble. 

          Tom and Allan rode close behind the Elf and Laire, as if frightened to be left behind, or just eager for the taste of action again, their rifles strapped beside them firmly at close reach. Laire glanced to then for a moment, seeing the determination in their eyes, and he wondered if they realised how alike they really were, despite the glaring differences. 

          His eyes rested next upon Dorian Gray, the immortal whose abilities were lessened here… his healing slowed drastically, and dangerously so. It was etched on his handsome face that he was concerned, though he was trying to hide this fact from his wife, and the rest of the League… not to mention the natural inhabitants of this realm. But Laire could read it clearly, and he sympathised. Dorian's natural strength had been lessened, and now his caution would have to be doubled. Mina Gray herself wore a veiled expression of misplaced anger… did she feel as though she had been dealt an injustice in being here? 

          _She worries for her daughter, Laire realised, and understood fully the familiar expressions he saw on _all_ the faces of the League. _Perhaps they should not have come. They have much to lose in risking their lives here for us… for people they do not even know. _Laire turned his head back to his path, just as Malhandir leapt over a fallen log from the woodland nearby, Eiselbahr leading the rest over it in following the young man. _But it shows their compassion and loyalty to a world they helped only once before, and that was spurred by the abductions of their children. __

          Laire smiled then, albeit grimly. _It would appear we made the right choice in going to the League for help…_


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 

Alice Finn woke very early in the morning, roughly around four, and found it impossible to get back into a peaceful sleep… not that it had been peaceful before she had awoken. She had been having an odd dream, with things in the darkness that wanted to hurt her, and she couldn't escape. She rolled over in her guest bed, and looked across the room where Lucy Gray was silent and asleep. _All right for some_, she thought, and quietly climbed out of bed, an art she had mastered from sneaking out of her room in the dead of night… whenever she stayed with her 'Uncle' Tom or in her own home. The parents very rarely heard it, but the one time her Secret Agent father, Huckleberry Finn, had found her, she had gotten out of trouble by using the excuse 'I needed a glass of milk'. He'd bought it, luckily, and let her off… promising not to tell her mother as long as she assured him she wouldn't do it again, and that she would take a drink of water or the like with her to bed.

          So it was that Alice crept from the room, noticing that Lucy barely stirred, only shifted slightly and fell silent once more, thankfully. Quietly, she crept barefoot down the hall in her nightgown, and walked past the other bedrooms, where people were still sleeping. As she walked past the bedroom that contained Will Quatermain, she saw his door was slightly ajar, and peered inside, catching sight of the rifle laying on a chest of drawers by the window. No matter how tempted she was, Alice forced herself to move on, and leave the gun be. 

          She had inherited her father's – not to mention uncle's – love of guns and the like, and yearned to try out Will's own weapon, but she knew he wouldn't let a 'girl' like her handle it. The thought made her angry, and she remembered how her father and uncle had showed her just how to use one and load one… her mother was furious about the whole thing, but she never actually interrupted and stopped the practise whenever the three underwent such a thing. 

          _She just worries about me_, Alice realised as she crept down the stairs, wincing when one creaked underfoot and hovering over it as if waiting for someone to burst out and investigate the noise. _I've just realised how huge this house is._ It was big enough for all the children and Marie Jekyll, and Alice's own mother, along with Vicky Skinner… she found herself wondering where it had come from, and then decided she need not worry about such things.

          Alice walked into the living room, and curled up in an armchair by the lifeless fireplace, staring at the blackened wood. She wondered what her father and uncle were doing at that moment, and despite herself, her eyes welled up. She forced the unpleasantness down, and told herself sternly that they both knew how to handle themselves… the amount of adventures she had heard about in her younger childhood; they would be fine. Her father was an exceptional agent, or so she had heard from her mother, who thought the world of Huckleberry Finn. Alice wished he was here with them, but she realised he would have – without a doubt – run off with Tom Sawyer on this mission of theirs. That thought made her frown. Her uncle was always looking for thrill and adventure, and she had a terrible feeling that one day… he would step in too deep. 

          _They're both fine… they know what they're doing, and I'll see them both again soon. _As she started to feel her eyelids become heavy, the last part of her thought was almost lost even to herself, _I hope…_

* * *

          As soon as they had come close to the Dark Lord's lands, they had branched off into three groups and turned away on their own small missions. For the moment, they still sat on the hill on horseback, the four of them, save for the Aseyewrn, who landed covertly some few feet behind them and walked up on foot. He was silent as he moved, and he stood between Skinner and Tom as the horses snorted and pawed at the ground. One shied, Mina's horse, and reared its head.

          "Can't blame it," Skinner noted, nodding his head down at the field rolling out beneath them, a sort of plain that stretched out from the tall, ugly tower of a fortress off to their right. "Look at that…"

          "I had no idea his forces had amassed so heavily," Piero said with a dark undertone, shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair giving him an almost feral appearance. 

          Tom shifted in the saddle slightly, and sighed. "There's thousands of them… not to mention… those." He swallowed dryly, pointing loosely with one hand off to the rear, where gigantic beasts were in a seemingly peaceful slumber. Covering most of the plain were orcs… and as Tom had estimated, there must have been thousands of them, a terrifying spectacle. Most of them were still for the time being.

          Piero followed the American's indication, and ran his hands through his hair. Clearly, he was troubled, though he tried to hide it from his features. "Dark dragons… _gayaerea_…"

          Skinner remembered that word enough to recognise its meaning – 'dreaded ones'. He shook his head. "How many of them are there? Can you see?"

          Mina narrowed her eyes, and fell silent, along with Piero… as one they both said, "A dozen."

          "Damn." Tom looked troubled, understandably, whereas Skinner remained silent in his concern.

          Suddenly, Mina turned her head, and said, "Quickly… we must find cover."

          Without hesitation, the others followed her, Piero swinging onto the back of Skinner's horse to run with them. Whatever Mina had sensed, the Aseyewrn did not trust the use of his wings in this time, and felt it better to stay low. They charged quickly into the cover of a thick wood, and dismounted. Piero said something to the three animals, and they quickly fled away to better cover, after Tom and Skinner had removed their weapons from the harnesses. The four of them ducked down in some bushes, and cast their eyes skyward at a horrible unearthly sound. 

          Dark shapes flew overhead, swift and hideous, and Skinner frowned at their appearance.

          "Harpies…" Piero revealed, keeping his voice low as the creatures continued over the plain and landed near the slumbering dragons. The dragons themselves did not move, their black scales glinting in the sun, and their crested, horned heads lolled on the ground with their spiked wings curled around their gigantic bulks. 

          "What _are_ they?" Tom queried. 

          "Dark creatures that serve the Dark Lord. They are deadly in battle," Piero revealed, and he met their gazes in turn, adding, "they spit liquid fire, and are vicious on top of that." His wings arched, and he scowled. "Wicked monstrosities."

          Skinner raised a brow. There was definitely bad blood between both species of winged fliers. His attention then changed, though, when he heard a low rumbling.

          "How much damage can they inflict on Terragan's defences?" Tom asked Piero as they hid in the wood. 

          "The liquid fire can burn though the strongest of metals, even in your world," Piero said, before tensing as he heard something moving in the distance. He drew his dagger, the soft whisper of the steel — Mina supposed it was steel; in this world, their metal could be anything — against the weathered leather somewhat comforting. She herself heard something, a mere rustle of bushes against something, the scrap of cloth against bark.

          Beside her, Tom cocked the Winchester, the sound painfully loud in the tense silence. Skinner frowned, pulling his new sword of the sheath that the mysterious Aseyewrn had given him. He trusted both Piero and Mina enough to know that something was wrong.

          When Xanthe came though the bushes, followed soon by her group of Hyde, Allan and Dorian. The Aclidian female looked very worried.

          "_Kwentra__ lye i'narn_," Piero said immediately, knowing that something bad had happened. [Raven's note: the Elven used means "tell us the tale".]

          "Grave news," Xanthe told them, keeping her voice down. "There are more of them than we thought. They have secured the alliance of the Queen Harpy. She leads them into war as scouts and the first wave of attacks." 

          "We had to take some of them on," Xanthe continued. "We hid their bodies in the bushes further behind, out of sight."

          "They put up one wicked fight," Allan comment, showing the floating sword and its bearer a tear in his right sleeve. "One of them scratched me. I was lucky they didn't spit on me, though. Xanthe here tells me that the burns wouldn't have healed."    

          "But their smell?" Mina inquired. She gave the air a delicate sniff, but didn't detect anything that smelled like rotten eggs, which was what she knew those harpies to smell like. In reply, Xanthe opened a pouch at her waist and pulled out a little green ball. The smell of fauna came from it. 

          "Those disguise their scent," Nemo told Mina, who had raised a brow. "Hence the fauna smell." 

          "Thank Laire for their invention," Piero told them in an off-handed manner. He turned back to the dragons, and squinted. "A dozen dragons...a nest of harpies…thousands of orcs…"

          "They're planning a full-scale invasion," Tom said.

* * *

          Laire, Eiselbahr and Hyde peered through a thick bush at the sleeping dragons. The Elven commander had told the beast that they would only really wake up at night, although they could fight in daylight. Right now, though, they seemed to be resting. 

          _Saving up their energy for an invasion, _Laire thought grimly. How they had managed to keep Hyde out of sight was still amazing. _For a brute so big, his sleuth is more than commendable. _

          "Laire," Eiselbahr prodded him in a rib, and Laire squinted in the direction that the Elf was pointing to. He saw the big iron door, and was able to make out a small illustration on the wood. "Ammunition and weapons store," Eiselbahr whispered. Nodding, and gesturing for Hyde to follow him, Laire dashed out from behind their dead bush and pulled open the door silently, and then he ducked in.

          Hyde and Eiselbahr followed shortly, and Laire muttered a spell and a small light of blue fire appeared in his open palm, illuminating the room. He turned around slowly as Eiselbahr shut the door. 

          "We were right," Laire whispered. "They plan an invasion."

          "What's all this?" Hyde asked, looking bored. 

          "This is might you'll be going up against," Eiselbahr told him, before moving further into the room as Laire inspected some of the weapons. There was the usual fare for the orcs: spears, swords, and bows for the few archer. But there were some things that baffled him. New weapons, perhaps, some with spikes, and what looked to be …

          "…dragon saddles," Eiselbahr announced as he came in from the innards of the room. "They have dragon saddles."

          "Which are used for…?" Hyde snorted.

          "Riding dragons, of course," Laire told Jekyll's alter-ego. "It has been tried before, yes, but with disastrous results. People have tried to tame dragons before, but that failed horribly. But this…" He fingered a saddle, and found that it was made of tough leather-like material. He frowned, turning to the Elven commander. "We need to get this information back to Terragan. The very presence of the _gayaerea_is enough. Now that they are going to ride them…"

          Eiselbahr nodded, but that was when they heard footsteps coming from outside.  


	9. Chapter 8

**Clez: **Ouch… long time between updates, huh? *holds up hand* Blame me for that one, yup. Got lazy, and got distracted, and then, pain of pains, got busy with work _ Oh well… on with the show.

_

* * *

_

**CHAPTER 8**

          "We need to inform Laire and Eiselbahr of this," Piero told them. "This changes everything. Our plan of defense… we did not think that the Dark Lord would be able to secure an alliance with the harpies."

          "What do you mean?" Skinner asked. He could understand Piero's distaste of the ugly creatures, but he didn't comprehend why the denizens of Terragan had not made a pact with the harpies before now.

          "Harpies have always been servants of the Dark Lord, whether he be the very first one, or the one that you destroyed," Xanthe explained, keeping her voice low. "After the original one was killed by the Crusaders, the harpies fled to the mountains, away from our lands. They live in caves, high atop the peaks of that mountain range over there." She pointed at a long, jagged line that ran across the horizon, to the west. They would have been beautiful mountains, but the dark shapes that flew around their peaks destroyed that affect, as did the sheer feeling of foreboding that surrounded the place. 

          "The _gayaerea_ live there as well, the foul creatures," Piero added, peering through the wood. "I believe they are gone for the time being. We need to inform Laire and Eiselbahr. Did you see them?" 

          "They were headed towards the fort last we saw of them," Xanthe told him. Piero frowned. _They went inside the fortress? Are they insane? _He could understand if it was Laire; the man was only in his early twenties, and despite him being levelheaded and calm most of the time, he was, after all, human. And from Piero's considerable interaction with that race he knew that at twenty-one, men were more prone to testosterone poisoning.  But Eiselbahr? The Elven commander was certainly old enough to know that going inside was pure foolishness.

          _Unless they saw something that compelled them to do so… _And Piero knew Eiselbahr well enough to know that he would not take any risk he deemed unnecessary. He ran a hand through his hair, and turned back to the group.

          "Xanthe, your group, go back and get the horses; wait for us," he told them, and Xanthe nodded to show she understood, as did the rest of the League who would be going with her. "We shall go in to get Laire and Eiselbahr and your friend." The last sentence he addressed to Mina and her League mates.

          "Are you sure we can get in there?" Tom asked. He didn't mean to be the pessimist; it was just that from what he had seen of the tower, it was heavily guarded and more than likely it would take a well-armed — or very stupid — group to go in.  "I mean, look at how many orcs there are."

          "We have our means, Mr. Sawyer," Piero answered, cryptic. Skinner raised a brow, but he couldn't help himself. _At least Laire's more open with us. _He turned back to peer out of the wood, and he heard Xanthe give a small gasp. It was so soft it might not have been there, but Skinner heard it. 

          Mina frowned. Xanthe gasping was not a good sign. "What is it?"

          Instead of answering, the Aclida addressed Piero, saying something in Elven that Skinner, fluent as he was, couldn't understand. Piero nodded. The two friends exchanged quick words, most of which Skinner couldn't recognize; Vicky had told him that most inhabitants of Idril Telemnar spoke in a mixture of Old Tongue and the Elven he knew well.__

_          "Gwenwin in enninath _(#1)_," _Piero told Xanthe. "And what worked before must be tried again," he added in English, casting a glance at the blade that Skinner wore at his hip. Skinner looked at the sword, and knew that there was something special about it. Something about it reminded him of something, but he didn't know what. He tried to remember, but it danced just out of his reach. He was brought back to reality when Piero spoke on; "Now, go. Should you encounter orcs, show no mercy, for you shall receive none." 

          When the other group was off, Piero turned back to his companions. "Follow me," he said, "and keep low." 

_

* * *

_

          Laire finished off the orc with a flourish, cutting the monster down with a swift swipe of his sword. They had been caught by a group of orcs on patrol, but the beasts had been dispatched quickly enough so that they would not raise the alarm.

          Hyde breathed heavily over the bloodily mangled body of the poor orc that had chosen him as a target, and although he didn't exactly approve of Hyde's tear-them-apart method, he had to admit it was effective.

          Eiselbahr stepped over one of the bodies, his mithril armour having protected him well. "I believe that is the last of the filth."

          "Good riddance," Hyde commented. "They stink." Eiselbahr, at that comment, produced a dark gray ball, and placed a few among the bodies of the slain orcs. 

          Laire was careful not to do anything that might make too much noise, and grabbed the first orc by his wrists and began to drag the heavy brute to the side of the armory. The least they could do was to hide the bodies as much as possible. The Elven commander and Dr. Jekyll's alter ego began to help him. 

          Eiselbahr heard the scrape of the door against the stone floor a split second before the door was thrown open, and he dropped the orc he was moving, drawing his sword in one smooth motion. He relaxed when he saw Mina. Piero brought up the rear of the group that filed in, and was quick and curt when he explained what had happened. 

          "We need to return to Terragan immediately," Laire said, pushing past Hyde, who huffed. "Where are the horses?" 

          "Xanthe is with them," Tom revealed. Laire was halfway out the door when the arrow went through his shoulder. 

Everyone leapt into action the moment the projectile knocked Laire backwards with an abrupt shout, Skinner shooting forward swiftly to catch his estranged son mid-fall. Laire tried to protest, but Skinner would have none of it, even as Hyde slammed the door shut so that everyone could gather themselves, hearing the clatter of the armour from the approaching scouting party of orcs. 

          "We've been spotted," Hyde grumbled, feigned nonchalance lacing his voice. He heard the arrows thudding into the door heavily, some of the tips breaking through the wooden barricade and splintering it.

          "Something tells me they need better doors around here," Tom quipped humorlessly, cocking his Winchester one-handed. The weapon clicked in an affirming manner, the sound deafening in the confines of the armory, and he held it in two hands with a resolute look on his face.

          Mina withdrew her two silver daggers with a growl, looking quickly to Skinner and Laire as the former fussed. "Is he all right?"

          "I'm fine," Laire cut in, reaching up and pulling the arrow out with a grimace. "It will heal, with magick of course." He gave his father a knowing look, and shifted from his helping grip, only to receive an irritated glare aimed at the back of his head.

          _Stubborn_, Skinner thought, and hesitated, before whipping out the blade from its scabbard, seeing the slight hint of a glow to its edge. He raised a brow, and murmured slightly to himself, feeling the comfortable weight in his hands and finding it most enjoyable. It was like he had been born to hold this weapon; as though it had been _made_ for his very hands.

          Piero gave his wings a prepared flap on either side of him, the feathers rustling. He whipped out the blades he had concealed in his belt, spinning them in his palms until the points where down, reversed in his hands, ready for a stabbing motion. 

          Eiselbahr's fine sword was still at the ready, and he glanced back at his companions, raising his brows, head tilted to listen. "There are many… is everyone prepared?"

          He received affirming nods from all gathered, even Laire, who wore a look of deep concentration, hands balled into determined fists, blood seeping steadily – but apparently unnoticed – from his wounded shoulder. 

          With an inclination of the head to Hyde, the door was thrown open, and Eiselbahr allowed Piero to soar out of it, narrowly missing a hail of badly aimed arrows in his passing. He swirled skyward, and then dove for the attack, blades gleaming.

          The elf was next out of the door, spinning in a cleaving arc that succeeded in relieving one foe of his hideous head. Black blood spilled freely, even as Hyde roared through, swinging his arms like giant meaty clubs in order to barrel his numerous fierce rivals to the ground with the force of an anvil. 

          Mina was next, growling ferociously, only to have an orc swing at her with a wickedly serrated sword, its rusty edge aimed for her neck. A deafening crack like thunder was heard, and Tom stood in the doorway with his rifle raised, watching the orc give a gurgle, before falling to the ground, a fatal hole blown in his skull. His blade fell from his hand.

          Laire threw himself into action, magick weaving in his hands as he cried out the words to summon the forces. Skinner was close to him, wielding his weapon with astounding grace and deftness. It was as though he had been using it for years, trained from infancy. Orcs fell one after the other to his weapon, and littered the floor around his feet.

          Eiselbahr and Piero covered one another, the Aseyewrn diving from the sky to pick off 'cunning' orcs who would sneak up behind the elf with a vicious intention. They received killing blows, without mercy. Piero was deadly with his skill, weaving in and out of his companions to protect them, and avoiding arrows that soared towards him with the intention of either piercing his wings or his heart.

          Tom fired off the remaining seven rounds in his Winchester swiftly, downing the foul beasts as they drew towards him, tossing the weapon aside when it emptied, whipping out his twin pistols with a flourish, before letting loose with a hail of bullets, even as Laire snapped an enchantment, and threw a knowing smile towards the American, who vaguely remembered the words from years before. He knew now that he could pull on these triggers so long as the orcs kept coming, and he would be in no danger of clicking on empty.

          The orcs continued to close in, as though endlessly supplied from the Dark Lord himself, spilling forth from the very mouth of hell. They roared fiercely as they approached, and the _League_, along with their allies, found their exits thinning, their backs pressing together in supportive combat, forming a circle of defense.

          "They just keep coming!" Skinner shouted over the bellowing, sword swinging in an offensive nature, slicing into the creatures as they drew too close for comfort. He could smell their foul breath, making him want to retch, drawing a grimace from him as they revealed their yellowed teeth.

          Eiselbahr practically mirrored Skinner, on the opposite side of the tight protective circle, as Laire drew into the middle in order to weave the magick from a more protected position, speaking the language to himself, his solid pupils concentrated, focused on his task. Mina slashed with her daggers, Piero hovering low on the other side of the circle to mirror her, their twin blades gleaming in the wan light. Hyde roared insults at the orcs as he clubbed at them, whilst Tom was on the other side, arms wide at an angle, picking off the beasts with precisely aimed bullets from the Colts, his eyes darting around for danger.

          "There's too many!" Tom called, hating to be the pessimist… again. "We're trapped!"

          Eiselbahr's keen eyes darted around, and though he hated to do it, he had to agree; "Sawyer is right! Our exits are blocked, and we are surrounded."

          One of the orcs nearby barked out a rasping laugh, only to have the end of Skinner's sword rammed into his throat as a reward. 

          And still they kept coming, surging forward with unbelievable persistency. Their roars were reaching a deafening crescendo, and Tom winced. It was playing havoc on his ears, and his temples throbbed, even as he heard a screech, and turned his green eyes skyward. "Oh god, _look_!"

          "Harpies!" Piero growled in frustration, snatching back the American's rifle from the orc who had chosen to claim it, after stabbing him in the chest with his dagger. He watched as Laire shot off focus magick towards the harpies, doomed to fail as they ducked around it, letting it crackle into nothingness behind them as they started to swoop.

          _We're done for_, Skinner thought dejectedly, swallowing the lump of defeat in his throat. It seemed hopeless, all chance of escape and future victory lost. Though the blade in his hands filled his heart with an undeniable warmth and confidence, he could not help but wonder what hope they had of surviving.

          Tom gave a growl when one of the orcs pressed in too close, catching the very edge of his left arm with a blade before receiving Mina's twin daggers in the side of its neck and face. It fell with a wet thud to the floor, and Tom quickly looked to his arm. He'd survive the graze, but… he was starting to lose his optimism.

          Their hearts and minds froze as one when a ringing bellow of a roar resonated off the tower and ground all about, piercing their bodies and somehow lifting their spirits. 

          Looking skyward – along with a good deal of the confused orcs – they watched as the harpies exploded in fire, screeching agonizingly as they fell, burning to the ground, black leathery wings turning to ash and letting off a foul stench. 

          All heads turned to the enormous shadow that cast over them, and instead of a crazed _gayaerea_, as Piero had first suspected – given that the creatures were prone to bouts of insanity – he was greeted by his own jaw dropping at what his eyes saw.

          "I do not believe it…"

          Eiselbahr almost dropped his fine elven sword in shock, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes welled with disbelief. _I thought them all lost_. His mind rambled with inconsistencies as the shape arched through the sky, serpentine tail flickering with a flash of blue and white scale as the reptillian maw cracked wide open and let loose a barrage of fireballs that bombed into the orc ranks, sending them soaring in all directions, a flurry of broken limbs and bodies, their screeching music to the ears of the _League_.  

          "What _is_ it?" Tom asked, his heart singing with newfound hope and optimism, his guns lowering as the orcs squealed with fright and confusion, scattering to the winds as the shape careened back over the small group, picking up a handful – or rather _clawful_ of the beasts – and crushing them with sharp talons, blood spraying, before it sent the bodies tumbling like dead weights back to the ground with a clear, ringing roar of triumph.

          The orcs were retreating, their bravery and sense of victory lost to this new and unexpected monstrous ally. It settled down with a stretch of its vast wings, bones in the sails cracking with the exertion as it shook off its body as if from a great slumber… which was indeed the case, as Eiselbahr and Piero were well aware.

          The elf and the Aseyewrn were the first to remove their weaponry from sight, sliding it away silently and without hesitation, whereas the _League_ was a little more wary. 

          The beast was a good thirty feet long, all scales and armour that glinted beneath the failing sunlight. Its head rested atop a craned neck, two long horns stretching back from the base of its skull. Its face was narrow, ending in a maw filled with dagger-like teeth, and a flickering red tongue. Its wings were colossal, ending in a barbed claw on each apex, stretching out like canvasses that could cast a shadow over an entire fortress. A mane of bony spikes ran down its neck from its skull, all the way down its back to its flaring tail. It turned itself around on four large feet, tipped with three clawed toes, leaving large imposing prints in the ground as it moved, squelching mud and orc blood beneath it. It looked to them with slitted yellow eyes, and blinked slowly, grumbling in a non-threatening manner, deep in its scaled throat. Its entire body was cast in beautiful shades and hues of blue and white, from the tip of its nose, to the end of its tail.

          Eiselbahr practically stumbled forward, eyes brimming with awed tears, until he bent down on one knee before the mighty dragon, bowing his head in respect, uttering an acknowledgement.

          Piero inclined his head, eyes closed, in a delicate bow, as did Laire. 

          Skinner and the others looked to one another in confusion, before Laire threw them a scathing look, and they bowed their heads briefly, not really understanding why. True, the dragon _had_ just saved their lives, but why were they treating it as a king?

          Eiselbahr stood, just as the gigantic beast lowered its head, letting the elf rest a hand on its very nose tip. 

          "Minaithnir," he said clearly, "we thought you lost, my Lord."

          The dragon grumbled something low in response, making slight clucking noises with its tongue… dialogue?

          Eiselbahr's face broke into an overjoyed smile. "You have returned."

_

* * *

_

(#1) Translation: _Long years have passed._


End file.
